Miniature Bellsounds

Walking the frozen lake
Mile after mile
In the blinding open;
The tinsellated snow twists and writhes its rainbow stream
making miniature bellsounds
at my feet.

Logstumps jump up like cutouts
The autumn colors of the weeds and cattails
Stare dull green shades of yellow;
Hare and deer trails follow and flee.
When I rejoin the path where I start
This loop finishes my question.

Walking upon the lake
Seems miraculous
And at the edge when I hear the ice crack
And my foot falls
I feel alive with the sharp wind at my face.
I would gladly risk this life
which is not life
for this.